


You Forced My Hand

by Profrock



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Force Choking, I'm Going to Hell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:08:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profrock/pseuds/Profrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Phil are Jedi apprentices at the Academy. Things get... interesting when a training duel gets out of hand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Forced My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> dan howell needs to stop tweeting that hes into bdsm i really doing know what to do with this information but here have this fic that i failed a test to write i have priorities man i swear

Everyone knew Dan Howell. The only thing sharper than his eyes was his wit, and the only thing quicker than his dry, pointed humor was his lightsaber. By the age of sixteen, Dan Howell was renown throughout the Jedi Academy’s base planet of Ossus, and rumors of his skills penetrated even the farthest ends of the Galaxy. There was talk around the Order of Dan having even been invited to sit on the Council, and the quizzically raised eyebrow and nonchalant shrug any Council member gave when confronted with the question only fueled the fire of rumors.

Phil Lester, on the other hand; no one knew Phil Lester. The tall boy blended into the background in every way possible. his soft voice and entirely plain appearance fading into the general peripheral. No one knew him, and no one remembered him A few trainees, if they were new and in need of friends, would gravitate towards Phil, only to drift back away due to his blank smiles and one-word answers. No one really knew Phil Lester, and that was just the way he liked it.

* * *

 

“Who do I have to kill to get some decent _fucking_  pants around here,” Dan griped, pulling frustratedly at the looks folds and billows of his cream-coloured tunic. He clicked his belt closed, turning around to inspect himself in the mirror. His belt was twisted.

Blowing his bangs out of his face, Dan undid and redid his belt, tugging the light fabric of his tunic until it hung evenly and relatively comfortably. Dan bent down to lace up his boots with a grunt and a sigh, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. Five years, and he had yet to get over how fucking ridiculous the outfits were. Dan was nothing if not petty.

Finally situated to the best of his ability, Dan squared his shoulders, tilted his chin up, and stepped purposefully into the corridor, practically  _oozing_ confidence. 

Other apprentices scuttled immediately out of Dan’s way as he strode down the hall, his head held high and predatory eyes always focused elsewhere. A metallic clicking, whirring noise echoed through the stone-and-chrome halls, signaling the beginning of the assembly. Dan’s long strides ate up the marble tiles quickly, leading him through force of habit to the large, open-air courtyards that the Academy used for assemblies when the weather was fair.

The sun beat high overhead, staining the sky a thick orange, veins of white and yellow and red tracing the horizon. Dan quirked a half-smile and - as inconspicuously as possible - blew a kiss to the sun. A kid behind Dan snorted in amusement, and Dan whipped his head around, fixing the boy with an ice-cold glare despite the heat. The boy squeaked and retreated, melting into the crush of students sweeping towards the center of the courtyard. Dan let the wave of people cary him along, depositing him at the shoulder of his best friend.

“Hey Anatares.” The older girl, skin dark with sun and wear, nodded once. The shaved dome of her head glistened with sweat, and Dan pushed his own damp hair back. Maybe he should have followed her lead and shaved it all off at the start of the season. He shuddered at the thought, one hand flying to hover protectively over his hair.

“I’m glad to see you are all doing well,” Master Ruchbok proclaimed, her deep, booming voice carrying loud into the sun-drenched sky. She paced languidly on her granite riser, her silver hair scooped into a tight, elegant bun on top of her head. Her right hand rested naturally on the hilt of her lightsaber buckled to her waist, and Dan’s hand flew to rest on his own weapon at the thought of it. The hilt buzzed under his fingertips, responsive to his touch. Dan stroked it lightly.

“As you know,” Master Ruchbok continued. “We have a tournament every Solstice Day to determine who is the best - “ her eyes scanned the crowd, picking out particular people at random to focus in on “ - and who is lacking in the fighting regard. The matches are all duels, opponents are chosen at random and whoever wins will duel another winner, so on and so forth, until the final duel, which is to begin at sundown precisely.” Dan relaxed back onto his heels. He had heard this speech twice a year for the past five years. He could probably recite if from memory. “Whoever wins will not only have the admiration and respect of their peers, but the recognition of the Council itself!” The students cheered, all clamoring to be the best, to be known. Dan picked at his fingernail.

“The leaderboard -” At Master Ruchbok’s words, the huge screen behind her lit up, a flurry of names and matches. Dan’s eyes scanned over it quickly, completely zoning out of the rest of Master Ruchbok’s speech. He found his own name, quickly flicking his eyes over the name of his opponent. Ioe-Aein was fast, light on his feet and quick to attack, but absolute rubbish at blocking and parrying. If Dan made the first move, he would win for sure. He smiled, tuning back in to Master Ruchbok’s speech just as she threw her final words into the sky. “Any fight is a fair fight, only called of by one of the competitors. No one may interfere with a duel, with the consequence of immediate expulsion. Now, my young Masters, step into your arenas and begin! And, as always, may the Force be with you!”

* * *

 

Ioe-Aein went down just as Dan had expected: In a matter of minutes. Dan sheathed his lightsaber, tossing a sharp grin to the cracked ground before wiping his forehead and retreating to the shade while other duels around him raged on. He squinted up at the leaderboards, his chest swelling with pride when he saw the thick red line through Ioe-Aein’s name, and that his own had moved up a bracket. He was the first to finish. He blew another kiss up to the sun.

* * *

 

The next six duels were a blur of dust and blue light and tan clothes, of ducking and weaving and blocking and parrying. Sluice was a strong fighter, but not confident in her own abilities, and would pause for a fatal moment before every move. Dan just had to be fast and take advantage of those pauses. Beiathais was a tank, expert at blocking and unwilling to attack. Dan just had to wait him out. Haadn, Lisbehe, Grachu, and Thissek were all good fighters, but Dan was better. He went into each battle knowing the ins and out and small mistakes each fighter made: Haadn’s jabs were uncoordinated; Lisbehe guarded too high; Grachu would always pivot gracelessly; Thissek overstepped his lunges. Dan had meticulously studded his classmates the years they had been together, until he knew every one of their weaknesses. It was part of what made him such a formidable friend, enemy and opponent: He sought out flaws and how to exploit them. And he was damn good at it too, if the bodies hitting the dirt were any indication. Dan always ended up on top - literally, in this case - not even breathing hard, just smiling down with his lightsaber pointed directly over their face.

With each duel, those who had lost found themselves watching rapturously from the sidelines. There were ‘oooh’s and sighs and clapping when a duel was finished, and the ranks of the fallen would welcome their new comrades with open arms, laughing and joking and poking at bruises. Dan smirked as he planted one booted foot on Thissek’s chest, lining the tip of his lightsaber up with the heaving bob of Thissek’s throat. The surrounding crowd - almost all of the other students, Dan realized absently - waited with bated breath. Thissek glanced down at the glowing point aimed at his throat, going crosseyed in his attempt. He flicked his sweaty hair out of his forehead with the barest of movements, grimacing up at Dan as he pounded the hard clay ground with his flat hand three times.

Dan grinned his signature sharp-toothed grin, lifting his foot off Thissek’s chest and extending a hand down to help him up. Thissek glared up at Dan, standing up on shaking knees without Dan’s help. A girl from the crowd stepped forward to help his to a bench in the shade on the perimeter of the courtyard. Dan shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest as he glanced back up to the leaderboard. No one could fault him for not offering help.

Dan’s name was finally one of the two remaining.

He had waited for years to get to this point, training and fighting and working his _ass_ off in combat classes, practicing forms and moves in front of a mirror for countless hours in lieu of sleeping. The crowd of trainees turned almost unanimously to stare up at the leaderboard with him. Dan’s heart sped up for the first time that day when he saw the name on the board across from his: _Phil Lester._

 _“_ Who the fuck is Phil Lester?” Dan asked no one in particular, glancing around fervently. It seemed that most other people were just as confused as he was, but they were better at hiding it. One boy, sitting alone across the courtyard in a duelers box, crosslegged with his face turned towards the sun, caught Dan’s eye. _Oh_. So _that_  was Phil Lester.

Dan vaguely recalled seeing him around a few times, but never paid the boy any attention. He never even knew the guy’s _name_ , for Christ’s sake, and Dan made it his business to know other people’s.

 _But,_ Dan thought, his head spinning. _If he’s this good then I would have noticed him before?_  No one who could best the hundred and thirty best young Jedi in the galaxy could possibly escape Dan’s notice.

An unfamiliar feeling crawled down Dan’s throat, dragging its chilly fingertips across his heart before settling in his stomach. Fear. Dan shuddered at the foreign sensation, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber tighter in his left hand. No way in _hell_  was he going to let his rightful victory go to some silent ensemble member. No. Dan was the rightful winner, and he was gonna win. Simple as that.

* * *

 

"You did okay,” Anatares grunted, bumping Dan’s shoulder with her own. Dan raised an eyebrow, knowing that was high praise, coming from her. “Yeah? And why aren’t I seeing your name across from mine on the big screen?”

“D’ijhon.” Anatares rolled her eyes. “Bitch kicked me in the back of the knee, I went down.” Dan patted her arm sympathetically. Anatares shrugged him off.

“Come on,” she said, jerking her head towards the practice rooms. “I want to practice with the Force. I can almost call my ‘saber.”

“I did this morning,” Dan said smugly, following her down the echoing corridors. Anatares shoved a door open with a sigh, not waiting for Dan before stepping in. “Do you have to be better than me at everything?”

“Not like it’s that hard to do,” Dan teased, earning a smack on the back of the head.

“Shut up,” Anatares grumbled, setting her lightsaber on the ground and crouching near it, extending her hand with a look of immense concentration. It quivered, inching slightly towards her outstretched palm. Dan cheered obnoxiously from across the room, making himself comfortable against the pile of practice dummies. The coarse, woven cloth itched the back of his neck where his bare skin touched it, and all the adrenaline Dan had been running on all afternoon suddenly dropped out of him, leaving him feeling dead tired and a little bit sick. He closed his eyes for a moment, intending to just wait his slight headache out before practicing.

* * *

 

Sundown came too quickly. Anatares woke Dan up from where he had fallen asleep on the pile of grass-filled dummies. Dan blearily stumbled after her to the arena, still picking stalks of dried grass out of his hair.

The arena was the area usually used for duels, at least ones that mattered. Rows of metal bleachers climbed the walls, and the trainees filed in quickly. The recessed platform in the center of the room was larger than the rest of the dueling boxes in the courtyard, circular and smooth marble. Dan’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw the small elevated platform that Master Ruchbok would introduce the duelers and the final winner on, the one had dreamed for so long of standing on, and he made his way towards it. Master Ruchbok gestured Dan up the stairs to the platform, where Phil was already standing with his feet apart and head bowed, his hands clasped together in front of him.

Dan on the other hand looked out over the crowd, smiling. He tipped a salute to Anatares, who flashed a tight grin back. Phil didn’t move, except for his hands, which started nervously fiddling with each other. Dan heart pounded in his ears, but he didn’t let it show.

“Young Jedi,” Master Ruchbok called, her voice immediately silencing the room. “There are your two final duelers, Phil Lester and Dan Howell!” The collected apprentices roared with applause, and Dan clapped along as well. Phil’s gaze finally pulled up from his shoes to glance around. “Good luck, my young Masters,” Master Ruchbok boomed, and Dan felt her voice reverberate though his _teeth_. “And may the best Jedi win!”

The room erupted in noise again, and Dan clenched his hands to stop them from shaking as he made his way down the stairs and into the dueling circle. He stood on the southern half, and blew a tiny kiss to the west, where the sun was just dipping behind the hills. As soon as it fully set, Master Ruchbok would call the duel to begin.

Dan took the last few seconds before the fight to try and figure Phil out. 

He was quiet, reclusive to the point of solitude, and Dan had only seen him look up once, and never at someone in the eye. Phil’s shoulders were wider than his hips and his pants hung the slightest bit baggy, meaning that he had stronger arms than legs. He also rested flat on his feet, as opposed to Dan himself who balanced on the balls of his feet, meaning Dan would most likely have to out-maneuver Phil as opposed to over-power him. Dan had the slightest edge of a height advantage, but just by an inch or so.

Dan would be loathe to admit it, but he was the slightest bit scared. He was going into this fight with no idea about his opponent, knowing nothing about his fighting style. If there was one thing Dan hated it was a situation he wasn’t in control of. Dan shifted his wight. Phil stayed absolutely still across the circle.

“Young Masters,” Master Ruchbok Called from her perch above them all. “Let the battle commence!”

Dan’s lightsaber was glowing in his hand before the echoes of Master Ruchbok’s words had faded from the room. He stared at Phil, unblinking, beginning to slowly step in a counter-clockwise circle.

Phil followed Dan’s lead, stepping around slowly without ever letting his eyes leave Dan. The two boys circled each other warily for a matter of seconds, each of which felt like an eternity.

Dan’s sharp eyes noticed Phil’s leg tense and toes point,and Dan was leaping back to block before Phil even stepped in for an attack. Phil’s lightsaber smashed against Dans with alarming strength, Dan’s arms trembling as he pushed the blow away. He crouched for a low, sweeping blow, but Phil danced out of his way. They were back to circling each other.

Dan feinted left and twirled, striking right hard and high. Phil parried and thrusted, jabbing so close to Dan’s clothes that Dan swore he saw smoke.

Blades clashed overhead, both snapping and fizzling with energy. Dan grunted and ducked in for an elbow jab to Phil’s chest, rolling away before Phil could cut him to ribbons.

Dan didn’t have time to think, much less plan, acting purely off his base instincts. _Block, jab, thrust, parry, pivot, pivot, dodge, block, swing._ He and Phil twirled gracefully around each other, lightsabers locked in a blur, fighting for dominance.

Dan managed to catch Phil off-guard, cleaving downwards with a hard and fast blow. Phil’s knees bent as he held his lightsaber perpendicular to Dan’s, desperately pushing back. His back strained and teeth grit as he held position, using every scrap of strength he could muster to _not fall over_. Sweat dripped of Dan’s dark hair as he pressed down.

In a last-ditch attempt, Phil jumped to the side, sliding his blade down Dan’s, towards the hilt. Dan’s eyes widened as Phil’s blade ran across the hilt of Dan’s lightsaber, brushing over Dan’s fingers and causing him to drop his weapon. The tension in the room was tangible as Phil kicked Dan’s lightsaber away.

Dan scrambled backwards, tripping over his own feet and ending up on his butt. Phil advanced slowly, twirling his lightsaber for dramatic affect. He was a mere foot away from Dan when Dan threw his hand out, as if he were reaching for something. Phil paused, thrown off slightly by the movement.

The tension in the room became suffocating as Dan’s lightsaber snapped into his hand. Phil’s eyes were comically wide as Dan stood up and got back into position. He struck again as soon as his feet were under him.

After that, the battle had definitely turned to Dan’s favor. He was quickly pushing Phil back, forcing him to step back to avoid being skewered. Dan’s clothes stuck to him, and the sweat dripping into his eyes practically blinded him, but he just blinked it fiercely away and struck again with renewed vigor.

Phil didn’t have the time to attack. Dan’s constant onslaught meant that he always had to block, completely unable to get a jab in edgewise. Dan lunged in, with an easy-to-deflect jab, thrusting straight for Phil’s chest. Phil parried.

Dan curled his hand, twisting his blade around. He knocked the lightsaber out of Phil’s hand and kicked the now weaponless boy in the chest in one fluid movement, sending Phil one way and his lightsaber the other. Phil landed on his back, winded.

Phil’s lightsaber made a hissing noise when Dan scooped it up, clearly angry at Dan. Dan ignored it, stepping over to put one foot bracketing each side of Phil’s ribs, straddling him. Dan held the two blades crossed under Phil’s chin. Phil stared up at Dan, eyes blown wide with adrenaline and panic. He blinked once and his pupils contracted, the black shrinking to a pinprick, engulfed by a glowing blue to match the lightsabers in Dan’s hands.

Dan felt a heavy weight on his throat, as if someone had wrapped a belt around his neck and pulled it just tight enough to be noticeable. The lightsabers fell from Dan’s slack hands, clattering to the floor with a tinny echo. He reached up to feel his throat, the hold becoming tighter and tighter by the second.

The nest thing Dan saw was a blur of movement, and then Phil was standing in front of Dan with his hand outstretched, as if he were gripping an invisible cup, looking significantly shorter than before. Dan kicked his feet experimentaly. His toes didn’t even brush the ground.

The pressure on Dan’s neck was becoming painful, his mouth falling open on a raspy gasp. Phil’s fingers clenched together tighter and the hold around Dan’s neck became tighter, his head beginning to go pleasantly fuzzy. Dan choked out a cry as Phil raised him higher in the air, and Dan couldn’t hear anything except for the blood pounding in his ears.

Phil brought Dan closer to himself, and Dan choked on a moan, unable to focus on anything except for the arousal in his gut and the static that tinged his vision - wait. _Arousal?_

Dan’s fogged-out brain stuttered weakly, and yeah, Dan was hard. He really didn’t have the mental capacity to focus on it, however, being more concerned with how he was going to survive to see the sun rise.

He flailed his left arm out, waving his hand three times.

Phil’s hold tightened even further, ripping another rough noise from Dan. His vision went almost completely black, and the weight dissipated immediately, leaving Dan a gasping, crumpled heap on the arena floor, tears trickling down his cheeks. He hunched shamefully over himself, knowing that no one can know just what that did to him. Judging by Phil’s smug smile, Dan was all but certain he knew.

The arena erupted into screaming, and Dan flinched away from the noise of a hundred and thirty voices hollering at once. Master Ruchbok came down to make sure he was still breathing before taking Phil up to the elevated platform, holding his hand in the air and proclaiming him winner. Dan was still struggling to draw a breath. He knelt there, bent over to rest his forehead on the cool marble floor with his eyes closed, willing his erection away. He ignored all of the awed whispers that passed as the trainees all filed out of the room.

He must have been sitting there for longer than he realized, because the next thing he was aware of is Phil shaking his shoulder and telling him that everyone else had left long ago, he just wanted to stick around to make sure Dan was okay.

“Yeah,” Dan rasped, sending himself into a coughing fit. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said. Dan stared at him. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you that badly,” Phil said quietly. “I just, uh, I was going to stop when you did the gesture, but I saw how much you were enjoying it, so, I-”

“Oh please,” Dan scoffed, his heart thudding in his ears. “Liked it? Don’t be disgusting.”

Phil’s eyes widened, then narrowed, settling with singular focus onto Dan’s own. Dan shifted slightly, not wanting to admit that things that Phil’s gaze was doing to him.

“Really,” Phil drawled. He stood up, bringing Dan’s gaze with him.

The invisible weight came all at once, crushing Dan’s windpipe. He gasped, kicking and struggling uselessly as Phil lifted him up from the ground like he was nothing. He shook Dan slightly, and Dan couldn’t bite back the moan that spilled from his lips.

“So,” Phil said nonchalantly, intently examining Dan’s face. “This is you then, completely not enjoying this. Wow. If that’s the case, what I would give to see what you’re like when you do enjoy it...” He tutted briskly, brining Dan closer to him so he could whisper in the other boy’s ear. “Don’t tell lies, Daniel, it’s quite unbecoming of a Jedi.”

“So’s... a re-relationship,” Dan stuttered out. Phil’s fist closed tighter. “I’m not proposing one. I just want a fuck.” Dan’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hips jumped forward of their own volition. He nodded.

“Good boy, Dan,” Phil hummed, lowering Dan until his feet touched the ground. Dan didn’t know why that sentence, said in Phil’s breathy, fond tone made him feel the way it did. “Now, you’re going to follow me to my room, yeah?” Dan nodded eagerly. Phil gave one final squeeze before letting go, catching Dan’s arm as he stumbled forward.

“You good?” Phil asked. “Peachy-fucking-keen,” Dan rasped, gasping for breath.

The walk to Phil rooms took about a minute, which was three minutes longer than Dan wanted it to take. He needed _something_ , damnit, and wandering the halls in sweat-stiff clothes with a raging hard on was very much _not_  that something he had in mind.

Phil held the door open as Dan fell through the threshold, stumbling gracelessly to stand awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure of what to do with his hands. He let them hand to his side, picking at his nails. Phil regarded him cooly from across the room, leant back against the door with his arms folded over his chest. Dan fought the overwhelming urge to look down, keeping shaky eye contact with Phil.

Dan wasn’t sure what to say, but he opened his mouth anyways. “Why didn’t I know about you?”

“Calling attention to yourself is a pretty bad idea when your fucking Uncle runs the Dark Side.” Phil tried to keep his voice distant, unemotional, but it wavered slightly when he mentioned ‘uncle.’ Dan stared, his jaw hanging open. He still didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“You - you’re uncle is...” Dan swallowed heavily, not wanting to even think the name.

Phil nodded jerkily. “Yeah. My dad’s a Skywalker.”

It all clicked in Dan’s head. “That’s why you can - ” He flushed a deep red, biting his lip.

Dan blinked, and by the time he opened his eyes again Phil’s expression had changed from vulnerable and angry to smug, and he wrapped the Force around Dan’s neck. Dan finally knew what to do with his hands, bringing them up to clutch at his own throat as Phil squeezed once, hard, accentuating his point.

“That’s why I can do this? Yeah.” Phil’s smirk was sharp enough to cut.

Static blurred the scene in front of Dan. He moaned brokenly, unaware of what he was saying.

“Harder, daddy,” he groaned.

Phil suddenly paused, his Force grip going slack in surprise before he grinned devilishly and bore down harder.

All he was aware of were hands, pulling and tugging his clothes off and then being carelessly tossed onto a bed laid with rough blankets and the vice grip on his throat. A warm weight settled on his chest: Phil was straddling him. A strand of drool dripped from Dan’s gaping mouth onto the pillow next to him, but he was too far gone to notice, much less care.

Dan jumped as if he had been stabbed when a hand, slick with spit and warm, wrapped around his cock, jacking lazily. He threw his head back and canted his hips up, his ragged breathing coming faster.“Yes daddy, please,” he sighed. The grip on his throat lessened, and he drew in a staggered gasp.

Phil’s hand on Dan’s cock tightened and he sped up his strokes, his Force hold cutting off Dan’s air supply in time with rubbing the head of his cock.

The pressure and pleasure combined soon became overwhelming, and Dan spilled hot and sticky into Phil’s palm, shaking with it. Phil let go of his throat, allowing Dan to start to regain his breath.

Dan’s thighs and arms and breaths were trembling, his skin slick and shining with sweat. It had felt just _so good_ , better then jacking of had ever been before. He drew in a breath, letting it out on a sigh.

“Holy shit,” Dan said, well, tried to say. His voice couldn’t form the words. He stared up at Phil, who stared hungrily back.

“You - “ Dan’s voice was just a ghost, a wrecked sigh into the humid air. He blinked languidly up at Phil, who was breathing heavily. Dan’s eyebrows drew together in confusion when Phil gasped and jerked, until he looked down. He hadn’t even realized Phil was getting himself off.

He reached down, batting Phil’s hand away and replacing it with his own. He twisted his wrist experimentally, relishing in the rough, broken moan it drew from Phil’s lips, shiny and spit-slick. It didn’t take long before Phil was shaking and groaning, spilling across Dan’s hands and stomach with a blissed-out sigh.

“We can’t be in a relationship,” Dan said softly as Phil suspended himself over Dan on shaking arms. “It’s against Code, and - “ He interrupted himself, leaning up to press his lips against Phil’s, closing his eyes tight. Phil’s lips slid easily against his own, jigsawing together perfectly. Phil sat back with a soft noise moments later, stepping down off Dan. Dan shivered when the air hit his skin.

“But Jedi are allowed to have friends,” Phil said, and Dan sat up, staring at him. “And i personally think it’s the decision of the friends whether or not they fuck on a semi-regular basis.” Dan flushed a deep red.

“Yeah,” he whispered. Despite his cocky image and don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, breaking the Code was a new one, even for Dan.”I - I suppose so.”

“Good,” Phil said with a surprisingly soft smile, pecking Dan once on the lips. “Now, you better get dressed. Don’t want anyone making assumptions, now do we?”

* * *

 

The next morning, Dan was sat at a wooden bench to eat, engaged in animated chatter with Anatares when he felt a weight settle heavy and solid around his throat. He glanced around quickly, catching Phil’s eye from across the room. Phil winked. Dan blushed and turned back to Anatares, crossing his legs discreetly under the table.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know star wars well enough to write phil as anakin rip in pieces @ me but please l ove m e anyways


End file.
